


Black Coffee, Two Sugars

by independentwriter137



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Eremika - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentwriter137/pseuds/independentwriter137
Summary: On the anniversary of her parent's murder, Mikasa finds herself in need of coffee and good company. Luckily, Eren provides both. Coffee shop AU. Reincarnation fic. Eremika.





	1. Mikasa

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty new here, but I'm so stoked to share my work with you guys. I figured an Eremika coffee shope AU was a good way to start <3

 

-Black Coffee, Two Sugars-

* * *

She hates the bus.

It's not just the uncomfortable seats and the danger of placing your hand on an old chewed up piece of bubblegum nor is it the faint stench of body odor from the previous occupants of your seat. And of course, the air-conditioning that's always either way too strong or simply non-existent isn't exactly what she would call enjoyable, but she could deal.

No, it's the sheer amount of people that always came with public transportation. She never liked being around too many people—or people in general—it made her feel self-conscious and more than a little uncomfortable. Usually, she drove herself wherever she needed to go, but driving today wasn't an option. Not with her mind so clouded like it always is this time of the year. Not with her hands shaking even worse than they do when she's cold.

She catches herself wrinkling the note she attached to the bouquet of flowers she bought, the simply scrawled _I love you_ creased and folded even though she hasn't even been on the bus for that long. She tries to smooth it out, but her shaky fingers can't steady themselves long enough to.

By the time she reaches her stop, she's berating herself for being such a mess and tries to straighten out her jacket as best she can as she stumbles out of the bus. The skies are beginning to darken and offer the slightest hint that it might rain and she feels like running back inside that bus just to get away from it.

_Of course_ it would rain today. She can smell it in the air. She pretends it doesn't remind her of rain boots splashing in puddles as her father chased her around the lawn, of the smell of her mother's small garden right after a storm, of the view just outside her window right before the masked men charged into her house. She reminds herself that she is not hurting, tells herself that that is not a lie.

She doesn't want to get caught up in the downpour, so she breathes in a few more breaths before heading up the path that she knows all too well by now. Two head stones right beneath the shade of a tree greet her just like they always do when she comes for a visit. She clears away the flowers she left from her previous visit and lays down her new ones.

She kneels in front of the graves and tries to find words to say that she hasn't said before. _I miss you,_ she could say, but she always says that. _I love you,_ of course, but that's a given. She could give them an update about her life, but what is there to tell really? She lives in the same apartment she's lived in for the past five years and she has had a neighbor for the past six months she barely remembers the face of. She's still works as a librarian where she is surrounded by cold pages which are the closest things she can count as friends.

They wouldn't recognize her, she thinks. If there really is such a thing as ghosts and they are standing next to her right now, they are probably wondering who this strange person visiting them is. They would be looking for their smiling little girl with a bright laugh and shining eyes. They would be searching for their pride and joy who was always rambling about something or other because she just never seemed to run out of things to say.

She's looking for her, too, but she thinks that she must have left her somewhere behind in that closet her mother told her to hide in before her life was ruined by a sound of a gunshot.

For a second, she thinks she's crying when she feels something damp fall on her cheeks, but that's not it. The rain has begun to fall and the darkness it brings about reminds her too much of the small closet corner that both saved and ruined her life.

She touched the headstones one more time, reads their name slowly even though all they've ever been to her is _Mom_ and _Dad_ , watches the ink bleed and smudge the already wrinkled _I love you_ note, then leaves before the rain gets harder.

* * *

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she can't help but think as she stumbles into a coffee shop soaking wet and upset. She forgot to bring an umbrella and she left her cellphone at home, not that it matters that she doesn't have her cellphone. Ruefully she admits to herself that even if she did, she has absolutely no one she could possibly call up.

It must be a special talent, she thinks, to have gone through her entire adolescence and a good five years of her adulthood without making a single friend. Acquaintances are abundant, of course, and she has Facebook friends that greet her on her birthday and vice versa, but she has no one she can just call up and ask for help. She doesn't have anyone that would drop everything and go to her if she asked them to.

She sees a group of friends in the corner of the shop laughing and taking selfies while sipping their fancily named iced coffee drinks. She's never been one for those—Frappuccinos, was it?—or for taking selfies either, but she feels a stab of jealousy that's nothing short of irrational.

She's has no one in her life because she made it that way. Because it's easier to stick to a routine that cannot be ruined, to a life where there is no one to leave her behind. If she learned anything at all from being placed in foster care, it's that she has no intention of risking attachments of any sort again. It's pointless, so why, why, _why_ is she longing for it all of a sudden?

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to order something?" the barista asks her, and she's not sure how many times the purple-haired barista tried to get her attention while she was thinking.

"Oh," she begins to feel sheepish and pushes her wet bangs away from her face. "I, uh, guess I'll have—"

"Excuse me," someone says to her right and she turns to see a vaguely familiar face grinning at her, steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He's all tan skin, brown tousled hair, and bright turquoise eyes. "You live in apartment 37B, right?"

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise before she can stop them, and she takes a step back without really noticing it. "Yes?" she replies somewhat hesitantly.

The grin fades a little at her reaction, but he takes his own step back when realization dawns on his face. "I'm sorry, that sounds creepy. I live in apartment 38B, we're neighbors. I've seen you around, but haven't really gotten a chance to meet you, you're not an easy person to get a hold of, it seems."

"Ah," she hums and finds herself at a loss to say because small talk has never been her strong suit. Usually, she doesn't really come up with anything and once the topic of weather becomes even more painfully boring than it usually is, whoever she's talking to gives up on her because they either think she's horribly boring, which she probably is, or that's she's a snob who doesn't think they're worth her time.

The barista gets her attention again and she realizes with a flush that she still hasn't ordered.

"You should try this," her neighbor holds up his cup. He says one of those fancy names she's never gotten the knack for remembering and tells her that it's new and 'pretty awesome especially in this weather.'

She always, _always,_ gets a black coffee with two sugars, so she doesn't know why she finds herself asking him to repeat the complicated name of the drink to the barista so she can taste it herself, but she does.

The coffee is good, but she's not sure if it's so much the coffee itself or the change of pace that she finds so refreshing.

They do, in fact, talk about the weather and when the topic seems to have reached it limit like it always does, she waits for him to make an excuse to go or to say goodbye, but when instead he asks her to join him in one of the booths, she starts a little in surprise.

She analyzes his question in her head. Turns the words over in her mind and tries to find some kind of hidden meaning to them. Does he know how socially inept she is? Is this some kind of a joke that will turn horribly unfunny? Is it a trick just like all those times when she was a kid?

Every part of her is telling her to say no, that she has someplace to be. That she is running late for something or some other vague excuse that has been used on her a billion times. She needs to keep up her routine in her safe and sheltered, albeit lonely life. But she glances again at the group of friends in the corner and remembers that the last friendly exchange she actually had was all the way back when her college roommate wished her _Merry Christmas_ through text and she replied with a smiley face. And he is smiling at her and his eyes are a strange mix of blue and green, and she relaxes just a tiny bit.

She thinks of the long since wilted flowers buried somewhere at the bottom of her bag and the feeling of emptiness that she's tried to ignore for so long. _Loneliness,_ that's the word. It's taken her this long to finally call it what it is. _Hide,_ her mother said, and she hasn't come out since.

And her eyes must hint just a bit as to what she's feeling and maybe they even water a tad because his expression changes to one of concern as his brow furrows at her.

"Are you okay? You look like you could use a friend," he says to her.

She could almost laugh, she really could, but she doesn't want him to think she's completely crazy even though a small part of her might be. A small smile does break out because _seriously_ , out of all the things he could possibly say.

She sighs a bit and brings her dark eyes to meet his. "Yeah, actually. I really could."

He sticks out his hand and she goes to shake it. "I'm Eren."

"It's nice to meet you, Eren. My name's Mikasa."

 


	2. Eren

-Black Coffee, Two Sugars-

* * *

He swears he just wants to talk to the girl in the apartment next to his because she looks lonely. It's certainly not just because she's pretty even though she really is with her dainty Asian features and inky black hair that spills past her shoulders, not that Eren's noticed or anything. He insists that it's because she always has this permanently sad look etched on her countenance. Armin usually points out that the old man with a skin condition living across from him must be pretty lonely too and yet Eren makes no effort to talk to him. His friend would then enjoy the crimson that would blossom on his cheeks as a result because Armin's just a little shit that way.

But if he's really honest, it's slightly more than that. Eren can't really describe it, but he _feels_ it. There's this pull towards her, some kind of connection that prickles the back of his mind like an itch he can never scratch.

So he watches her in a totally non-stalkerish way as she makes her way out of her apartment with her head down as he unlocks the door to his. He's kind of hoping she'll look his way so he can offer a polite _hello,_ but she hurries down the steps with her hands shoved deep in her pockets.

Armin scoffs beside him. "You need to grow a pair."

"I've already got a pair and they're very nice, thank you very much."

"You sure about that? Because you've been living here for the past six months and all I've seen you do is nod and smile at her."

"Sounds pretty good to me."

"She wasn't even looking."

"Tch, of course she was. She totally nodded back that one time."

"I'm pretty sure she just checked the time on her watch."

"You suck."

"Open the damn door already."

"Oh, right, fuck sorry."

With a flush, he finally gets the key in and pushes the door open. Immediately, he plops himself on the coach and buries his face in his hands. Don't get him wrong, Eren Jaeger is by no means anti-social. It's the exact opposite, actually. He's got plenty of friends, he goes to parties, and plays football. He's loud and obnoxious with a mouth that his mother always threatens to wash out with soap.

And he's talked to plenty of girls in the past, most of them swoon over him if he really turns up the charm. Well, except for Annie, who gave him a black eye when he tried to hit on her when he was drunk, but that was more because he tried to _boop_ her nose. But he feels like the girl in apartment 37B is different. She seems more like a butterfly. One wrong move could send her flying away forever and that's something Eren definitely does not want, even if he doesn't really understand why that is. The problem is, Eren has a spectacular way of screwing things up. He's known for his boneheaded decisions. So technically, if he doesn't really speak to the girl in 37B, he can't really mess anything up.

Right?

Wrong.

"You know that every day that passes that you don't talk to her just makes it harder and weirder to do, right?" Armin says from the kitchen as he grabs a Coke from the fridge.

"I've noticed."

"If you had just introduced yourself when you moved in, you know, _like a normal person,_ you wouldn't be in this situation."

Eren sighs and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. He toys with the idea of simply one day knocking on her door and going, _Hi, my name is Eren Jaeger. I've been your neighbor for the past six months. Sorry I'm only introducing myself now, but would you like to hang out sometime? You look like you could use a friend._

"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day Eren Jaeger gets hung up on a girl," Armin whistles as he takes a seat next to him.

He snorts. "I wouldn't talk if I were you. The most headway you've made with Annie recently is inviting her to go watch that stupid horror movie last week."

Armin flushes and hides behind his blond hair. "That was totally a date."

"Sasha, Connie, Jean, Marco, Reiner, Bert, Ymir, Krista, and I were there, too."

"I wasn't ready to be alone with her yet."

"You weren't even sitting next to her."

"I was a few seats away."

"You were on opposite sides of the row."

"At least I can talk to her, which is more than I can say about you."

"Fuck you."

Armin just laughs, takes the TV remote, and flips the channel to some boring documentary called _The Age of the Titans._ Eren groans and tries to steal the remote away, but Armin keeps it out of reach. "Come on, don't you want to find out more about those giant bones they found recently? This is a huge historical discovery."

"Not really, no," Eren says drily and stands up.

"Where are you going?"

"A coffee run. Lord knows I'm going to need it if that's what's playing on TV."

"Bring an umbrella, it looks like it's going to rain."

"Sure thing, _Mom."_ Eren rolls his eyes, but does so anyway. He also grabs his favorite red scarf before shrugging on a jacket.

"I'd tell you to say hi to her this time if you pass by her on your way out, but we both know you'll chicken out," Armin calls as he steps outside.

Eren gives him the finger and slams the door behind him.

* * *

_She's right there, she's right there, she's right there._

It's the girl from 37B and she's literally right in front of him. He opens his mouth and summons the courage to speak even though he doesn't really know what to say. "Excuse me, you live in apartment 37B, right?"

Her gray eyes go wide and she takes a step back from him. Shit. He just realized how creepy that sounds. _Smooth, Eren, real smooth._

His mind goes blank because _shit_ she's really pretty. He fumbles a bit as he backtracks. "I'm sorry, that sounds creepy. I live in apartment 38B, we're neighbors. I've seen you around, but haven't really gotten a chance to meet you, you're not an easy person to get a hold of, it seems." There. That sounds better. Normal, sane, all the things you would want in a person.

She relaxes and he lets out a breath. He recommends one of his favorite coffees to her and before he knows it, they're sharing a booth and he's actually talking to her. A real conversation. Armin's gonna shit himself when he finds out.

* * *

Her name is Mikasa. He thinks it might be one of the prettiest names he's ever heard. She doesn't smile often, but when she does, he feels his heart clench. He resolves to make her smile as much as she possibly can. They talk for what feels like hours and he finds out that it's because it actually has been hours. He learns quickly that he really, really likes talking to her. It feels natural, like something he's always done and something he's supposed to keep doing. She's the first one to suggest heading home because apparently she's had a long day. He asks for her number though and to his surprise, she actually gives it to him.

As they walk out of the café, the rain stops, but the wind is as harsh as ever. It bites their skin and he can see her starting to shiver.

"Here," he says and takes his own scarf to wrap around her. "Is that warm enough?"

Her eyes widen and he pauses too just as he was about to let go of the scarf. There's a familiarity to it that he can't place. He feels breathless.

"Y-yeah. It's warm," she whispers and gingerly places her hand on the scarf. It feels like a puzzle piece falling into place, like a picture being completed.

He offers her one of his signature lopsided grins and reaches out to tug on her jacket sleeve. "Come on, let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't catch it, the purple-haired barista is a nod to Touka from Tokyo Ghoul. Hope you liked it!
> 
> -Indy


End file.
